


(Early) Afternoon Nap

by sal_si_puedes



Series: Suits Comment Fics [7]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M, Smut, Smutlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey falls asleep in his chair behind his desk <strike>and dreams of Mike</strike>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Early) Afternoon Nap

**Author's Note:**

> Lil something inspired by [this drawing](http://vivienedgeworth.tumblr.com/post/96148900368/imagining-harvey-taking-a-nap-in-his-armchair) by [vivienedgeworth](vivienedgeworth.tumblr.com).
> 
> I'm [sal-si-puedes](sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

When Harvey leans back in his chair, one leg folded over the other, a file lying open in his lap, and closes (rests) his eyes for just a moment, a second or two (he _might_ be just thinking really hard and nobody will notice), he doesn't expect to fall asleep. Harvey Specter doesn't fall asleep behind his desk in the middle of the (early) afternoon. 

Harvey Specter doesn't ~~make love to~~ fuck his associate for hours and hours (the whole night and, again, in the (early) morning (under the shower, on the kitchen island, under the shower)), though, either. Only – he does. Or, rather, he has done so. Three nights (and (early) mornings) in a row now, to be precise, and now he might just be a little tired. Five espressos and one (stealthily gulped down) Red Bull don't really outweigh three nights (and (early) mornings) of Mike Ross.

When Harvey falls asleep (at the office, behind his desk) he doesn't notice it at first. He thinks he's remembering, merely remembering, while resting his eyes for a second or two (which he can _totally_ pull off). Images flash before his eyes, like snapshots, like Polaroids tossed on a pile, one on top of the other, like playing cards.

_Mike's lashes forming a dark half moon against his flushed cheek._

_The small of Mike's back, arched, and Mike's slightly spread legs below his ass cheeks. Foam running down the crack._

_The hollow of Mike's throat, sweaty and a vale of shadows._

_Mike's open mouth, breathless, his lips swollen and red._

_The tip of Mike's cock, a crystal drop seeping from the slit, rolling down the crown, landing on the tip of Harvey's tongue._

_The tip of his own cock, trembling at the entrance to Mike's tight heat._

_Mike, spread over the top of the kitchen island, tearing at his tie._

_His come on Mike's chest. And on his back._

Harvey shoots up from his sleep ( ~~dreams~~ thoughts) when the file folder slips from his lap and drops onto the floor. He blinks and shakes his head briefly before his eyes fly to Donna who has turned around in her chair and is grinning at him like the big sister who's caught her little brother with his hand in the cookie jar.

Harvey groans. He knows that this is going to cost him, and we're talking proper accessories here, not perfume and flowers.

He picks up the file and straightens his back. And winces. He's – for the lack of a better word – rock hard. And leaking – again, for the lack of a better word, of course.

He considers his options for a moment. What he really wants (aka option #1) is to ~~run~~ ~~hurry~~ stroll to Mike's office and drag the younger man to the men's room by his tie (and/or collar) and jerk him ~~self~~ off in one of the stalls. Or suck him off. Or fuck him, he's not picky. So, options #1.1-3. 

Only thing is—Mike isn't at the office. He's in court. And there's no way Harvey's going to get Ray to drive him there in the middle of the (early) afternoon, there's no way he'll sit in the back of that car, surreptitiously rubbing his cock through his trousers and do that tie-and-collar-dragging thing in a public building once they've arrived and Mike's hearing is over. So, Harvey strikes option #2 from the list as well. 

Biting his lips, he shifts in his chair. He isn't getting any softer and going through all those tempting but impossible options isn't making things easier, to be honest.

He finally decides on option #3, which is, he has to admit, the most boring one. First, ~~ten~~ five minutes with that file (not in his lap, on his desk) to calm him down a notch so that he can at least walk without coming in his pants. Because that is something Harvey Specter definitely and most decidedly _doesn't_ do. And ~~those two times~~ that one time in the elevator the day before yesterday ~~and in the bar's restroom last night~~ ~~don't~~ doesn't count. ~~No, Mike, shut up – they don't / it doesn't.~~

After that, a ~~much needed~~ quick jerk-off session in the men's room. Alone, alas, but he'll go through those Polaroids again to make it ~~nicer~~ ~~more satisfying~~ quicker, his own memory isn't half-bad either after all.

And then, another espresso. He definitely needs another espresso.

And then, in the (late) evening, ~~definitely~~ ~~most likely~~ maybe another photo shooting. So to speak. And all through the night. And in the (early) morning. 

Sleep is ~~highly~~ overrated anyway.


End file.
